As the Moon Longs for Dawn
by SilverSiren1101
Summary: The morning light shines on two lovers, their relationship just as strained as her sleep-deprived eyes feel. Shrike wants nothing more than to get up without a fuss, not wanting to deal with the recent emotional distance between them. Little does she know it's been affecting Crocodile just as much, and he's not about to let her slink away with giving them what they need.


**Author Notes:** A fluffy one-shot featuring my OC (Shrike, from my fic series "Defiance") and Crocodile. Note this is the shorter, sanitized version. The smutty lemon can be found over on Ao3 if you are interested in that one, instead :)

* * *

The sun rises upon the eastern horizon. Tendrils of warm tones stretch up from the ocean depths, licking color into the brightening sky. Some others reach outward, over and across the waves rather than upwards in one last salute to the descending moon.

Dawn has come. Proof to all the world that it lives on yet. Night has passed. Day has begun anew.

And it's time to wake the hell up.

Or so one particular ray says, as it finds the one gap between the curtains and strikes across the eyelids of a woman who really rather wishes it was still nighttime.

Shrike.

Just, Shrike. No last name. Not anymore, anyway. Only a handful of titles ranging from bad to worse and a chosen name to go by. Pirate, assassin, '_traitor'_ from one man, and yet '_princess_' from another… but all pale in comparison to what she is right now.

Which is tired as all hell.

'_Fuck', _the only thought that forms in her mind as she realizes she's awake. The sound that claws out her throat, though, is far less articulate. She groans, and it's as low as despair itself, sounding more like a zombie's than from a healthy, living being like herself.

Well, not _completely_ healthy. Not with the numerous scrapes and bruises she picked up on that bounty last night. All of which come to life at once as she remembers, settling into dull aches and stinging burns. More annoying than painful, at least.

Shrike stirs then, needing to stretch out the ache in her limbs. The movement sends a strand of ashen hair down into her face, and it somehow finds the perfect spot to tickle her nose. She bats it away with a bandaged hand and a terse growl, not at all having any sort of patience in her fatigued state. Her fingers continue upward to thread into the silvery stormcloud it fell from, latching onto the strands in some bid to block out the light assailing her.

Gentle as it is, the morning rays shine much too brightly for her sleep-addled senses. Even as her tired eyes first blink open, they immediately narrow into a pained wince, pale yellow disks thinning to slivers of polished brass.

It's early. Too damn early to get up. Shrike knows it without even looking at the clock. The exhaustion draining her very soul tells her more than enough, and not to mention the throbbing starting up deep behind her eyes.

Going back to sleep, though, isn't an option.

The sun is up and so is she. Too many years of surviving alone on the streets have taught her that daytime and sleep don't mix aside from condensed power naps. Sunlight means being seen, and being seen means being in danger, especially to the sickly, homeless waif she used to be.

_Used_ to.

That was over a year ago. Her life is completely different now in so many ways. She has a home now, so protected and loved, and strong enough that she can return the favor.

If only her messed up sleeping habits could get the hint.

They don't care that she's safe. That she's in the comfiest bed of her life with her lover behind her, one of the most powerful and infamous men in the whole world… who is _awfully_ close to a full-on snore right now.

She would've smiled at it any other morning, but what with how he's been lately, all it does is make her want to smother him. To see him sleeping so soundly, not bothered at all by how distant he's been to her recently…

Beyond the rare absent-minded touch as she passes, or a mumbled "good whatever time of day it is", they've barely shared a word these past few weeks. He's just kind of… forgotten about her. The woman he almost _died _for. This new project of his or whatever has consumed every bit of his attention.

The idea of interrupting his focus out of an act of neediness, though, only made her feel silly- pathetic -and so she stopped giving him her unreturned affections after the first week of this. He's gone on about his work either completely ignorant of her loneliness or just apathetic to it.

Shrike grumbles then, muttering under her breath only for the sound to pitch into a pained hiss as she draws into another stretch. The soreness in her legs is far from pleasant, and a rainbow of bruises mottles her pale skin. The one on her ribcage is bound to look pretty nasty by now…

There's no point whining about it now, though. She's not the type to just stare up at the ceiling until a more reasonable time comes to crawl out from the covers, regardless of the pitiful amount of sleep she got last night. All that's left for it is to suck it up and maybe sneak in a nap later.

But her lover, it seems, has some objections to that plan.

A muffled groan rumbles from behind her, her back having arched into his side upon stretching. Rasped with sleep, it sounds rather miserable coming from someone who usually _radiates_ confidence. And it's no wonder, too, knowing just how much the man loves his sleep… and how frustratingly early it is.

'_Great. Now is when you notice me?'_

Still, she freezes, not wanting to disturb him more than she already has. Unlike her, he's not the most tolerable of morning people… and even_ that's_ putting it lightly. Most of the crew will go nowhere near him until he's had his morning coffee, several cups of the stuff. And, with her feelings for him strained from his recent emotional neglect, having to deal with his morning persona would only end in a nasty fight.

It's not until the muffled sound of his breathing steadies -still pretty close to a snore, though _he'd_ never admit it- does she risk turning over to check on him.

Crocodile, feared pirate captain and former shichibukai, would-be kingslayer and usurper of Alabasta, escaped prisoner of supermax prison Impel Down… lies face down, head covered, in a luxurious mound of pillows. Only his shoulders and below can be seen, rippling back muscles exposed to the morning sunlight his little pillow fort has done well to keep out.

The whole effect is rather comical given his fearsome reputation, and she would've laughed had she not been in such a sour mood towards him. Especially as she imagines him clumsily piling them about himself in a sleepy haze during the night, probably not even fully awake, knowing him. He's a remarkably lazy beast, able to stay in bed for hours and hours like some giant housecat.

Crocodile, however, is a vicious and powerful pirate lord, capable of disintegrating into sand at a moments notice, and has trained his subconscious to do so upon any sign of danger. He'll pop a quick eye open if anything happens to disturb him and fall back asleep like nothing happened.

Or, spring up and be ready to kill in a second flat, if needed.

Shrike doesn't have that option. All she has is her wits and wiles and a stealth-shroud that only works on people not already looking at her. A shroud she _really_ wishes she could activate right now, were she not so damn exhausted. Waking him will only cause trouble, especially as he's only gotten at most the same pitiful amount of sleep that she herself has.

Despite assuming he hadn't even bothered to notice her slip out yesterday afternoon, Croco had been up and waiting for her by the time she got back last night. In any other case, she would've found it charming, but in actuality, it'd only been frustrating. Their first real conversation in some weeks ended up being a scolding session over how banged up she was, and questions about why she hadn't told him what she'd planned to do.

'_As if you would've heard them!'_ She had wanted to snap, but opted instead for a silent shove as she pushed past him to take a shower. Though the quick kiss he planted on her before closing the door had been undeniably affectionate, all it did was piss her off further. A reminder of what's been sorely lacking between them. She'd planned to make her feelings known before bed, but by the time she'd left the bathroom, he'd already been asleep for several minutes.

Yet, as much as it needs to be addressed today, waking him up early is _not_ the way to go about doing it. Grumpy, exhausted Croco will just make her want to shove a pillow down over his face _for good_, the ornery bastard.

Unfortunately, it seems she doesn't have much choice in the matter. Something she really should've expected.

For as soon as she attempts to slide out of bed, he begins to stir… as he does _every_ morning when she rises. It's some subconscious routine he's instilled in himself, triggered at the first sign of movement. He'll crack a wary eye open, not even fully awake, and give a quick once-over to make sure she's okay before going right back to dreamland.

_This_ morning, though, the one morning where she actually wants nothing to do with him, he's not so content as to let her slip away.

"Shrike….?" Crocodile's sleep-rasped voice slurs from the mess of pillows he's garrisoned about himself. "...It's…"

"Early. I know." She snaps, though she curses herself for her already sharp tongue. At this rate, a fight's going to be inevitable unless he can fall back asleep like he usually does. The fact that he's forming words instead of grunts quickly dashes that hope, fast.

He shifts then, a rise of his shoulder as he drags his arm out from beneath the pillow it'd been tucked under. Embittered as she is, she can't resist the muted smile tugging out the frown on her lips as his hand reaches out, fumbling about until it manages to find her side. It's rather cute, the seemingly arduous ordeal belying the absolute lethality said hand is capable of.

Not to her though.

For her, that hand only ever holds her sweetly… Except when it's gripping her hip hard enough to bruise… Pinning her arms above her head… Giving her a rough spank…

At least when he bothers to _remember_ her. What with him being so busy lately, Shrike was bound to start missing him in more ways than one. Doing it herself doesn't scratch that same itch.

"Go back to sleep, then." His deep voice rumbles, snapping her out of the thoughts rapidly reddening her cheeks.

"It's dawn_."_

There's no immediate answer. The silence lasts just long enough to make her think he may have fallen back asleep.

But the mound of pillows shifts shortly after. He turns to face her, rolling off his stomach and disturbing the topmost enough to dislodge it from his head. It slides off to reveal those wonderfully dark eyes she loves so much, looking at her with not a shred of their usual predatory focus. Now, they just look… tired.

And so very soft.

It's handsome in a way that makes her heart flutter as much as it makes it ache. Fuck, does she love this natural look on him. When those wayward curls of black fall into his face, and the hints of morning stubble darken his jawline. So rare to see, what with how he doesn't dare leave the ship with even a single strand out of place, dressed like he's always on the way to a fancy dinner date.

...She frowns at that. They haven't had one of those in a little while, either.

He blinks a few times, and it's only when his eyes flick up into the light that their true color is revealed: a rich and luscious amber tone, hidden in all but the purest of light. They're so dark as to be black, otherwise. But the growing morning light reveals far more than just that.

Like mistakes.

"...the curtains." Is all he says, looking up into the thin gap somehow casting a great deal of light across the bed.

"The curtains."

He deflates, somehow melting back into the pillows more than he already has. His hand comes off her side to palm his face, and a rather drained sigh soon whistles out from beneath it.

The sight makes her feel a little guilty, as much as it annoys her to realize. "I could've checked them too."

"Not with how you came back looking last night." He grumbles, threading a hand into his hair in a fashion similar to how she did earlier. Those eyes flick over to look into hers from beneath his palm, lingering for but a half-second before trailing downward to take in the state of the exhausted, roughed up woman before him… and her scarlet lace bandeau. The rich color is so striking against her naturally pale skin, he can't help _but_ look at it.

And think about that cute, pert chest underneath.

"I'm fine, really. I can nap later." Shrike cuts him off before he can start in on her condition, thinking it's her injuries making him stare.

Her temper tends to be on the shorter side even at the best of times, and what with her being so thoroughly exhausted at the moment, any control she has is slipping rapidly. The last thing she wants right now is yet another scolding from someone who hasn't had a full conversation with her in a week. Or, worse, being _babied_.

She attempts to roll over, to get up and get away. The reappearance of his hand on her side keeps her still. He gives a firm squeeze, and how his thumb presses onto her sensitive hip bone reminds her of certain attentions she's been missing. She doesn't get to enjoy it long, however, as it quickly moves on, rising to caress her face.

Even as much as she wants to just get up without a fight, Shrike's heart can't help but flutter as his knuckles skim up her cheek. It takes everything not to melt right into his palm, so well-trained by his habit of cupping her face. Gentle, as though she were something delicate.

Rarely ever done in public, of course, like she's some embarrassing secret of his. Only when they're aboard the ship or thoroughly out of public-eye is he able to let himself be so vulnerable to her. Affectionate.

But right now she's simply far too agitated to let herself enjoy it. _Especially_ as he then makes his intentions clear.

Shrike can only frown as his thumb gently pulls at the sensitive skin beneath her eye, expanding the fatigued area and revealing truly just how dire the situation is. The skin has sunken there deeply, and has turned such a dark purple as to almost look like a black eye.

"You need more than a nap."

Her frown straight turns into a scowl.

"That's just my face. You should be used to it by now." She snaps. "Unless you forgot what it looks like."

The soft look melts off Crocodile's face in an instant. A hint of that usual sharpness returns to his eyes, now glinting with anger. His exhaustion, too, has also left his temper short, and his nostrils flare from his annoyed exhale.

"_No_. You look tired. Even for you."

Her eyes have always been dark underneath. Even after consecutive days or even _weeks_ of restful nights, the bags beneath them never fully go away. They only ever look better, rather than _good_. Meaning, they have to be looking pretty severe for him to have said something.

Or to have even noticed at all.

"I'm surprised you looked long enough to notice." Her spitefulness adds, and it's not until he frowns that she realizes she's said it aloud.

"_Princess-_" Croco invokes her pet name, so utterly ridiculous yet adored by her all the same. All it does now, though, is make her angrier, feeling he has no right to use it after hardly even looking at her all week.

Shrike rolls over then, already pushing back the duvet to get up. All she wants now is to be away from him, to calm down and _discuss_ this later rather than _fight_ about it now.

He stops her yet again.

His hand reaches over her, planting itself flat against her navel before brusquely pulling her backward with a surprised squeak. She's brought flush against him, chest to back. Her hips only come to about the midpoint of his torso, what with their size difference, and he curls about her in that slight way he does to compensate. His body radiates heat into her usually chilly skin, but the sensation only makes her shiver.

Even as nice as it is to her touch-starved body, it merely enrages her further.

"What the fuck?!" Shrike snaps, practically vibrating from the rage building within. She struggles in his grasp, fighting to whip her head around and bark right into his face. "Let me up, assh-MMPH!"

Crocodile's lips meet hers just as she turns, swallowing up each and every complaint as if it were his duty. The kiss is forceful, yet soft. It tells her to shut up, but in that soothing, "it'll be okay" kind of way.

She resists for only a moment. Her eyes go wide, gorgeous gilded disks on full display staring into his own half-lidded pools of dark. And then they slide shut, succumbing to the reassuring influence of the kiss… of the feeling of his arms wrapped about her… of his scent, so darkly rich and familiar as home now.

The tension falls from her body as if her strings have been cut.

He hums in low approval as she relaxes in his arms. For even as much as Shrike's fury would cow most other men, Crocodile knows how to tame any beast, no matter how vicious.

And he knows _this_ beast best of all.

She acts tough. She _is_ tough, but she acts it, too. Shrike pretends to be okay when work steals away his attention, when his affection turns to emotional neglect. But he knows these times hurt her worse than any wound, stealing the vigor and color from her life until it all goes gray. She needs his love more than even air. Longs for him as the moon longs for dawn, the only chance to glimpse its beloved, the beauty of the rising sun.

And as much as he's failed to show it recently, he needs hers, too.

It'd only been yesterday when he finally looked at the calendar and comprehended what day it was, how long it'd been since he had really seen her. _Spoken_ to her. But, by the time of his realization, she'd already left; and last night was _not_ the apology he'd envisioned.

He'd fallen asleep feeling sick with guilt, and even as he breaks their first real kiss in some time, one that'd started stolen only to have ended freely given, he can't help but feel guilty still.

"Forgive a man for wanting to feel the presence of his lover at his side for a little longer." He murmurs, lingering close enough that she feels the ghost of his words on her tingling lips.

The sound she makes wrenches his heart.

It's one he hasn't heard in a long, _long_ while. A whine indicating just how hard she's trying to hold herself together. As much as he wants to pull her close after hearing it, he forces himself to pull away. He needs to see the look on her face, to see what suffering he's wrought upon her in the absence of his affection.

The sight catches him right in the chest.

Shrike's not the type to tear up from… anything, really. Strong and stubborn to a fault, she's just as afraid of showing any sign of weakness as he is. It's only now that she's so tired, and tired of _being_ tired, that the cracks have begun to show.

"_Now_ you want me? The one time I want to be away from you is when you remember I exist?" She whispers, knowing that a voice any louder would only fall prey to the tears she's trying so very hard to hold back.

Crocodile sighs, a long and tired sound she knows all too well. A calming mechanism that expels all the doubts and fears from his mind as he works up the courage to be vulnerable. _Real_.

"I've been neglectful, I know." Her eyes twitch wider as the words process in her mind. An admission of guilt. Rare, from a prideful man like him. "But forget you?"

His hand comes up from where it'd begun to idly trace circles about her navel, seeking out her chin. He curls his index finger beneath and his thumb above, so gently beginning to trace along the line of her lip.

Chapped. Teeth marks.

Clear signs of recent anxiety. A bad habit of worrying her lower lip when stressed.

"Shrike-" She shivers as he says it, coming off his tongue like it's somehow sacred. "You think I would forget the woman I love?"

Her breath catches, a light blush coming to her face as it always does whenever he admits the severity of his affection for her. _Love_. Once a word she thought he'd never be able to say. She still remembers the first, when he lay in this very bed suffering of a terrible wound that'd been intended for _her_. He'd taken it instead without a single shred of hesitation.

Because it was then that he realized he couldn't bear losing her.

Shrike takes a shuddering breath then. Her eyes flick downward as she averts his gaze, only to find the scar left behind from that incident instead. Well healed, at least, though an uncomfortable reminder of what was almost lost, all the same.

Remembering it always makes her feel guilty. Ungrateful, almost.

Her lip finds its way between her teeth as she stresses over her feelings, wishing she had the energy to articulate what she really wants to say without it devolving into the pathetic sobbing of a woman too exhausted to handle her emotions with maturity.

Needy. Lonely. Tired. Stressed. Touch-starved. Drained. Sad. Frustrated.

The gentle movement of his hand returns her back to the here and now, bringing her out of the spiraling maelstrom of her mind. He cups her cheek fully now, and the look they share speaks of an understanding only lovers could have.

"I've been unfair, and haven't given you the attention you deserve." Croc murmurs, his tone somber. Remorseful. "But, please…"

He draws closer then, as if to pull her into another kiss only to stop right as he feels the heat of her lips radiating onto his. She gazes into his eyes, now close enough they're the only thing she _can_ see and what she sees is smoldering, burning darkness. Not a warmth but a _heat_, telling her his intentions as if they were written there.

"_Stay with me._" He breathes, the words heady against her lips.

Every confusing feeling coalesces at once, and now she's left with only one: need. The comfort only he can provide.

The sound she makes is indescribable: a desperate whimper filled with such want. "Please."

He draws back far enough to see her expression, _needing_ to see it.

And it nearly makes him flip her over and tear off her clothing right then and there.

In the bedroom, his lover is ever a chase. She's bratty, demanding and resistant, toying with him just as much as he toys with her. She talks back, teases and goads him, taking each punishment in stride until he's broken the fight from her in the loveliest of ways. Hers is a submission fought for and earned, and the moment she melts into his arms is sweeter than any other victory.

For her to be looking at him now with those desperate bedroom eyes, ringed about the edges with undeniable wetness and all but begging without words, not a single shred of defiance to be seen…

She needs him. Not any of their usual games. Not any of their toys.

_Him._

And, _fuck_, does he needs her.

"If you really are fine as you say…" He breathes, and then tells her exactly what he intends.

Not with words.

But with a roll of his hips.

His hardened length brushes against the curve of her ass.

"...Then let me make it up to you."

She gasps, an adorable redness taking hold in her cheeks. The look in her eyes has become downright feverish.

In lieu of words, she only nods, and lets him take the lead.

* * *

Shrike wakes feeling… not terrible. She blinks, staring at the wall wondering just what time it is. Her eyes don't feel so strained anymore, and neither is her head pounding. A soreness remains, but it's different.

In a different location.

Ah. Yeah.

The abrupt shutting of the bedroom door makes her jump. It must've been it opening that woke her in the first place.

"Ah, good morning. Was just coming to wake you." Croco's voice hums, sounding rather good-tempered, though it's not as though she can't imagine why.

Sex always does put him in a good mood.

Just as it normally does for her, too, but… something feels… off. Something she can't quite place.

She sits up then, a small frown on her face as she looks not at him but at her lap, trying to muse over the confusing feelings twisting about her gut. It's only now she notices the fresh gauze placed over her ribs. _Properly_ placed, this time. He must've cleaned her up while she slept, carefully enough that she hadn't been disturbed in the slightest.

Her gut only twists harder for it.

She begins to open her mouth, the words solidifying in her mind of what exactly she wants to tell him. Only, the appearance of a plate before her eyes wipes them all away in an instant. Laden with eggs, toast, roasted mushrooms, and potato hash, she's too entranced by its sudden appearance to make a move or comment.

Until her hunger does for her.

A furious, rumbling growl reverberates from her empty stomach, and she gratefully takes the plate from his hand.

"I figured." He chuckles. The bed dips as he settles down next to her, a mug in hand as a tendril of sand props a newspaper on his hook. "Coffee is on the nightstand, though it's probably cold at this point. I can get you another."

But she shakes her head. For once, she's woken up practically bursting with energy. No morning pick-me-up needed. Though from the way he's fully dressed, she highly doubts if it even is still morning.

"What time is it?"

"Late enough for that to be brunch rather than breakfast." But his attempt at humor falls flat, not drawing the chuckle or playful groan from her he'd expected. Croco looks over at her then, finally noticing the disconcerted expression on her face. "It's just past noon. Is everything okay, Shrike?"

The use of her name normally fills her with warm feelings fit to burst, but now it only exacerbates that cold feeling in her gut. She looks at him with an almost remorseful light in her pale eyes, something he picks up on immediately.

He sets down the mug and paper, freeing his hand to reach over and cup her cheek. "What's the matter? Don't say 'nothing.'"

Shrike sighs, shuffling the plate off her lap to settle next to her stale coffee, placed there some hours earlier in case she awoke. A thoughtful gesture. Just as binding her wounded side was, and bringing her favorite breakfast in bed…

As much as she doesn't want to ruin the mood or give him the impression she's ungrateful for what he's done this morning… it's not enough to excuse his recent behavior. She has more self-respect than that, even if the desperation for intimacy this morning temporarily made her forget.

Shrike swallows, clenching her fists and finding that determined center of hers to turn and face him with the confidence she needs. The expression she finds almost makes her wish she hadn't, though. Croco looks at her with nothing short of warm concern, head tilted slightly, brows knitted together as his scar wrinkles about his nose.

No, he can't get away with this just because of a cute face and some sweet gestures… and some _really_ good sex.

She speaks before that determination has a chance to wane.

"I don't exist for you only when it's... _convenient_." A declaration. Not a request nor anything that could leave room for exception. There is no 'please' in her words, only a statement of fact, an assertion for the respect she deserves.

Crocodile's expression shifts to a frown, almost like a pout before he closes his eyes. He takes the same reassuring breath as earlier, and his hand shifts from her face to her shoulder.

"I know. I've been neglectful. To both of us." He gently squeezes her arm before moving again, now opting to take her hand in his. He leaves it on her lap, thumb lightly tracing over the back. "It wasn't until yesterday that I realized it. I'd intended to apologize last night, but…"

"But I came back at three in the morning all banged up."He doesn't need to finish the thought. She knows exactly why, and it only makes her feel guilty. "Sorry for worrying you."

He shakes his head, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"...and I'm… _sorry_…" He grits his teeth through the word, as if it physically discomforts him. "...For not giving you the treatment you deserve."

Her eyes widen. Genuine apologies from Crocodile are rare, obviously as the man often feels not a shred of remorse for his actions. This is one of those, and damn if she's going to take it for granted.

He reaches over then, disintegrating his hook into the softest sand he has in order to pull her into his lap. She doesn't resist in the slightest, tucking her knees to her chest as she curls against his own.

"I do love you, never doubt that." He murmurs, and bends down to plant a light kiss into her hair. "Even if I've done a terrible job of showing it recently."

Her thoughts chuckle inwardly at that, and an affectionate, happy smile stretches across her lips. How funny that declarations of love come from him easier than apologies, of all things. Though she supposes it's not fair to him to think that. She remembers what it took for that first one to come out… and he _has_ been making progress since they've gotten together…

"It's… well, it's not _okay_, but I accept your apology." Shrike sighs, reaching up to give him a kiss of her own. "It'll take some time to forgive, though."

He hums, running his fingers through the ashen locks about her head. The wavy strands of her choppy chin-length hair have long since lost their already vague places, now writhing every which way about her head like a storm's cloud… Though he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it this way. Shrike owns this wild, untamed look, much in the same way he prefers his own immaculate, clean style.

"I think you'll be pleased to know I've canceled all my meetings and plans for the rest of the week. You have me as you wish."

She stiffens at that, looking up at him with those hauntingly lovely eyes, unnerving and supernatural to all but himself and a few others.

"And I'm not saying that to run off and do it now just to win back your favor. I took care of it while you were asleep." He grins, looking down at her with the smoldering affection that always makes her heart stutter. "I plan to make this up to you with more than just some sex, princess."

"I mean, the sex _was_ really good." She laughs, a bubbly sound that has the same effect on him as his expression does on her. "But don't let it go to your head, you're insufferable enough, as is." She hastily adds on, biting at her lip to keep from giggling.

"Too insufferable to stand going to dinner with this evening?" Crocodile disentangles his fingers from her hand to find her chin, tilting her face up to meet his. "I'd hate to cancel the reservations I made for us."

"Oh no, you're taking me out whether you want to or not. I'd never forgive you otherwise." But the mirth in her tone says the threat is anything but real.

He chuckles at her flirting, now realizing just how much he's been missing this. Missing _her_.

"Do you have an outfit in mind? Or would you like to go shopping?"

"Trying to bribe my forgiveness with food and pretty dresses?" But she quickly reassures him before he can frown. "I know you're being genuine, hun. Yes, let's go shopping, I'd like to spend the time with you."

He hums, a contented noise that puts her at ease… only to puff a short laugh of amusement.

She looks up at him questioningly, wondering just what's so funny.

"Not to be difficult, but would you really say this morning was out of 'convenience?" He asks, looking down at her with a little half-smirk _just_ bordering on the edge of smugness. "Crack of dawn, three hours of sleep, and both our tempers even shorter than normal is as far from 'convenient' as possible."

Shrike can only roll her eyes, but… he kind of has a point, as much as she doesn't want to give him credit. "You know what I meant!"

He begins to respond, only for another angry growl to rumble from her stomach. She shifts awkwardly, pressing her lips into a tight smile as she looks longingly at the plate of food just out of arm's reach.

"Don't let it go to waste, you know I don't cook often." He plants a kiss to her brow before she scrambles out of his lap. Shrike practically shoves a whole slice of the jam toast down her throat before turning back to look at him, eyes brimming with appreciation and love.

Crocodile merely shrugs, but the satisfied smile on his face says it all.


End file.
